


The Long Con

by somethingsomething



Series: Heist Family Hijinks [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2025558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsomething/pseuds/somethingsomething
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hansens run into Stacker Pentecost five times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Con

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted to Tumblr, now in it's (edited) entirety. Title comes from the lovely confabulatrix and was originally "Love, Marriage and the Long Con."
> 
> Let's just pretend the timeline is stretched out and Chuck hasn't been born yet.

1\. Stacker Pentecost first meets Angela Hansen in 2005, though that’s not the name she gives him. In fact, she doesn’t give him any name at all.

The hallway of the hotel the Archduke is staying in is short, and there’s a woman leaning against the wall. Stacker’s on one end of the hallway, she’s on the other. She holds up a black bag, dangling a string of pearls and sapphires over it.

Stacker’s heart stutter-stops before roaring back to life. Those are the jewels _his_ team is here for.

The woman smiles and drops the necklace back into the bag. Stacker’s already moving down the hallway, not caring about keeping his steps light because they’ve been working on this job for _months_ and there’s no way he’s going to let this woman just walk in and ta–

She’s gone.

Stacker’s mouth twists and he raises his hand to activate the comm in his ear when the light catches something shiny.

There’s a table at this end of the hallway, and a potted plant sits on top of it. Tucked into the stems of the fern is one of the necklaces Stacker had been trying to steal. It’s the cheapest of the five, but it’s better than nothing.

Stacker tucks it into his pocket and takes the long way home, just in case.

 

Stacker’s the first one back to the flat they’ve been using. He sits on the couch and stares at the necklace laid out on the coffee table.

Luna and Tamsin come in ten minutes apart an hour later. Stacker has only moved to make tea and turn on the lights as the sun set.

“How’d we do, Stacks?” Tamsin asks, falling down on the couch next to him, booted feet on the coffee table.

Luna makes a clucking noise by the door, where she’s hanging up her coat. “Tams,” she says.

Tamsin rolls her eyes, but sits up straight. “You sure you don’t have a little brood running after you with all this motherhenning you do?”

Luna laughs. “You’re enough as it is,” she says. “You’re awfully quiet for someone who just scored a pretty big hit,” Luna says to Stacker.

Stacker picks up the necklace and dangles it from a finger. “This,” he says, sighing, “is all I got.”

“What?” Tamsin asks, taking the necklace from him.

“There was a woman,” Stacker says. “She had already gotten there. Left this in the hallway for me.”

Luna takes the necklace from Tamsin before she falls back against the couch. “Fuckig hell,” Tamsin says. “Did you get a name or something?”

Stacker shakes his head. “She was waiting for me, though.”

Luna sighs. “We’ll go home and fence this there. Let’s move out tonight, just in case.” She puts the necklace back on the coffee table.

Tamsin gets up and wanders off to start packing, muttering about vultures getting all the benefit for none of the work. Luna follows her.

Stacker stares at the necklace for another long minute before Tamsin yells for him to move his ass.

 

(“He’s cute.”

“Who’s cute?”

“You know exactly who.”

“Yeah, alright, he’s cute. What about it?”

“How do you feel about dating again?”)

 

2\. Two months later, Stacker’s in New York City when a man bumps into him.

“Ah, sorry, didn’t see you there,” the guy says, smiling a little.

Stacker stares for a second longer than he means to, blaming it on trying to place the accent, when really, it’s because the guy is pretty cute. Red hair, stubble, maybe a little older.

Stacker blinks because looking at the guy is getting him nowhere. “Not a problem,” he says, smiling, about to ask if the guy wants to get a drink – it’s only one in the afternoon, but one drink never hurt anyone – when the guy runs his left hand through his hair. A gold band catches the light. “It helps when you’re not staring at the street signs,” Stacker says instead.

The guy laughs and starts walking off. “Thanks for the tip,” he says.

Stacker nods and walks down the street. There are plenty of other cute redheads out there, he tells himself.

Stacker reaches into his pocket to pull out the keys to this job’s flat and finds a piece of paper.

He unfolds it and reads, _Hope we can meet for drinks sometime; we’re big fans of your work_. It’s signed _A. and H. H._

 

(“How’d it go?”

“I slipped a note into his pocket, like we said. He seemed interested, but I think something scared him off.”

A sigh. “But if he’s- Herc! You were wearing your wedding ring.”

“Oh.”)

 

3\. It’s another three weeks and Stacker hasn’t forgotten about the man and woman, though for entirely different reasons. He doesn’t even think of them in the same context.

Then someone hacks their comms in the middle of a heist.

“Oi, you lot might want to be moving out soon, an alarm’s been tripped,” a man’s voice says. It’s a little familiar, deep and rumbling and…Australian? The comms have a habit of fuzzing voices. “Looks like private security.”

“Yeah? And who the fuck are you?” Tamsin says, low and angry.

“A. and H. H.?” Stacker asks. It’s a guess, really, because the man from New York could’ve just been hired to drop the note, but that voice is like an itch at the back of Stacker’s head.

“Present,” a woman says.

“And accounted for,” the man says.

The woman starts to say something else, but Tamsin cuts in with, “You know these assholes?”

Stacker goes to answer, but it’s his turn to get cut off. “I promise we’re not cutting in on your job this time,” the woman says with what sounds like a smile, “we’re here for a different piece. We’re not joking about the alarm,” she says, smile gone. “It wasn’t in our plans so we’re guessing it wasn’t in yours. They look ex-military. They’ll be inside and on you in five.”

Tamsin starts muttering curses while she zips up their gear.

“Thanks,” Stacker says.

“Anytime,” they chorus.

Tamsin’s all but stomping out of the room. Stacker hurries off after her. They end up meeting two guards before their exit. Tamsin’s in a marginally better mood after they shove them in a janitorial closet.

 

Luna’s already at the warehouse with the surveillance van when Stacker and Tamsin show.

“Something you wanna tell us, Stacks?” Luna asks. She leans against the back of the van, one foot on the bumper, arms crossed. Stacker suddenly feels 14 again, Luna 16 and in charge for the weekend, the washing machine and dishwasher overflowing with soap suds.

“There was a man, back in New York. He bumped into me and I found a note in my pocket that said ‘Hope we can meet for drinks sometime; we’re big fans of your work. A. and H. Hansen.’”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I had no idea who they were. Still don’t.”

“I can’t believe they had the nerve to do that,” Tamsin says. She sits on the bumper, her shoulder bumping against Luna’s hip. She winds an arm around Luna’s thigh.

Luna sighs. “They did help us out,” she says. “What did they mean about not stepping in on our work?”

“I don’t know,” Stacker says, though he has an idea. “I’m sorry, sis,” he adds, hands in his pockets.

Luna smiles. She stands and walks to Stacker, one hand on his cheek. “Just be careful, yeah? Nothing stupid?”

Stacker smiles back. “Scout’s honor,” he says and hugs Luna.

Tamsin snorts behind them. “You were never a scout.”

Stacker flips her the bird.

 

(“So do you think we’re starting to leave a good impression?”

“Hopefully. I didn’t think it was going to take this long.”

“I don’t remember asking you out being this hard.”

Angela laughs and runs a hand through Herc’s hair. “That’s because I did all the work.”)

 

4\. A. and H. find Stacker in Quebec, of all places. The last job got a little close for comfort, so Stacker’s in Quebec, lying low, while Tamsin and Luna do the same elsewhere. He thought he’d heard something about Cairo, but it had been drowned out by Luna laughing about Tamsin’s pale skin that close to the equator and Tamsin saying latitude didn’t matter, she wasn’t planning on either of them getting out of bed for at least a week.

Stacker’s at the bar, halfway through some pale ale they’d had on tap, when a woman with long red hair sits next to him. She sits backwards with her elbows on the bar top, right knee crossed over the left, her head inclined towards Stacker.

“What’s a bloke like you doing here?” she says, all smiles. She moves her head, just a little, nothing to it, and Stacker watches the light play across her hair.

Stacker sits back from the bar a little. “Not stealing necklaces, for starters,” he says with a smile sharper than the woman’s. It’s a guess, really, he’d only gotten a brief look at their burglar, but Stacker’s had nothing to do but think for two weeks. 

She winces and that’s one mystery solved. “We’re sorry for that, yeah? We’ve made up for it, haven’t we?”

Stacker raises an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth. “Not according to my partners.” He takes a sip of beer and swallows. He’s not looking, but he swears he feels her eyes staring at his lips as he wipes them.

“Alright, what’ll it take?” she asks. “Kiss and make up? It doesn’t pay to make enemies in this business if you can avoid it.”

Stacker turns it over in his mind. “More than a kiss,” he says, dropping some of the bite. She did leave one of the necklaces, and even the cheapest one of the five fetched a pretty penny on the market.

The woman’s eyebrows rise and her eyes dance. “I think that can be arranged,” she says and leans forward before Stacker can name his terms. “Angela,” she says into his ear. She kisses his cheek, and her lipstick sticks against his skin. She pulls away, just far enough to look him in the eyes, her breath still ghosting across his cheek. “There,” she says, smiling, and Stacker’s not usually given over to metaphors, but he swears there are small twin suns glowing behind her eyes. “We’ve kissed and made up.”

She’s gone before Stacker manages to restart his brain.

 

(“How’d it go?

“Oh, well enough.”

“Christ, Ange, you look like you got the bird and the cream.”

“We kissed and made up, is all.”

“You couldn’t wait? What happened to ‘for better or for worse?’” Herc says, pretending to look wounded.

Angela laughs. “It was just on the cheek. He didn’t even return the favor. Would you like one to match?”)

 

5\. Two weeks after Quebec, Stacker, Tamsin and Luna are in Sydney. There’s a masquerade ball, which is the only reason Luna had let Stacker come, let alone be on the floor.

Stacker spins Tamsin out on the dance floor. “Guards are getting ready to do their rounds,” she says when she’s back. “How much longer do we have to do this? I hate classical music. Next time Stacks and I have to be dance partners, let’s do it at a club.”

“Tamsin,” Luna says over the comms. It’s half a sigh; Tamsin’s been complaining about ballroom dancing all week. “There aren’t any Monet’s to steal at dance clubs.”

The string ensemble draws out their last notes and Tamsin grumbles under her breath about how once, just once, she’d love to do a honey pot scam and rip off some rich brat. At a dance club.

Stacker laughs and leads them back to their table, according to plan. Tamsin goes to the bathroom, according to plan. A redheaded couple sits down on either side of Stacker once Tamsin’s out of sight, not according to plan.

“Don’t you look dashing,” the man says, and Stacker wants to place his face, but can’t. The woman, though, Stacker places her immediately.

Stacker sighs. “What do you want?” he asks.

“Stacks? Who are you talking to?” Luna asks.

“Wanted to see what you were doing tomorrow afternoon,” Angela says. She leans close, and her perfume is familiar.

Something niggles at the back of Stacker’s mind, and it’s not Tamsin on the comms saying, “It’s those damn Australians again, isn’t it? Fucking _hell_.”

“Focus,” Luna says, so they do.

“Why do you want to know?” Stacker asks, leaning back in his chair to see both of them better. “Need a third set of eyes for private security?”

The couple smiles. “Not security,” the man says, and Stacker labels him as H.

“I’m not sure I should be going anywhere with either of you,” Stacker says. “Too many variables.”

Angela and H share a look across Stacker. Stacker checks his watch. Two minutes.

“Hercules,” H says. Stacker’s eyebrows draw together.

“Hercules and Angela Hansen,” Angela says. “Should give you everything you need to know. Let us know when you want to talk.” She and Hercules stand up.

Five steps away, they turn around and Hercules says with a wide grin like a punch to the gut, “My mates call me Herc.”

Stacker checks his watch and goes to meet Tamsin.

 

Luna’s not angry, exactly, but she’s holding the steering wheel hard enough Stacker wonders if it might break.

“Luna….”

She sighs. Tamsin’s in the backseat and quiet. “What are you doing with these guys, Stacks?”

Stacker sticks his hands in his coat pockets. It’s cold this time of year in Sydney.

“You’re not 12 anymore, you have to think things through,” she says, and she’s worried that maybe these guys know too much, that they work for some agency and this tiny little family Luna’s salvaged for them is about to come tumbling down, but she’s right. Stacker’s not 12 anymore.

“I’ll check them out, but Luna? Trust me to make my own decisions on this. Besides, they’re after me, not you and Tams. I'll make sure it stays that way.”

They’re at a red light that turns green. Luna turns and looks at Stacker for a long minute. “Okay,” she says. “We’ll help with the research” – Tamsin groans at that – “and we’ll go from there. Deal?”

Stacker smiles, just a little. “Deal.”

Luna smiles back and drives through the intersection. It’s quiet for another minute, then:

“Yeah, so if the lovely sibling moment is over and done with, that looks like a 24-hour McDonalds up ahead. Fancy parties don’t feed much.”

 

(“I feel like it’s the morning after the first date and we’re waiting for him to call about a second one.”

“I was fine until you said something, Ange.”

“Sorry.” A beat. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Ange.”)

 

+1. Herc and Angela Hansen, it turns out, have a paper trail. It’s not difficult to find, with a name like Hercules.

Herc has a brother named Scott, Tamsin finds out, convicted of insurance fraud that often left his victims homeless and penniless. Tamsin holds the legal printouts pinched between her thumb and pointer finger while she reads them out loud.

Later, Luna hums from her seat at the computer and says, “Well, Stacks, it looks like you’ve got a pair of keepers – they’re like us. Donating some of cash off of jobs, only stealing from the rich.”

At the airport, Stacker drops Luna and Tamsin off at the international gates. Luna studies him for a long moment before hugging him tight enough to crack his spine.

“Love you, Stacks,” she says.

“Love you too, sis.”

Luna pulls back but keeps her arms around him. “Email me within 24 hours.”

Tamsin steps up and throws an arm around Luna’s shoulders. “Come on you, Stacker’s a big boy. We’ve got a plane to Florida to catch! Do you think we can catch an alligator? It’ll be a nice addition to our secret lair.”

Stacker rolls his eyes at Tamsin as Luna lets go. “I’m serious, Stacker,” Luna says, pointing. “24 hours.”

“Yes ma’am,” Stacker says. He sees them through security before driving to a ritzy seaside manor on the outskirts of Sydney. He has a burglary to interrupt.

 

“Herc Hansen, 25,” Stacker says, leaning against the doorframe leading into the wood-paneled study, “married Angela Hansen, 27, three years ago.” The couple at the safe stands up and grins at him. “Herc and Angela have been active in various circles for years, but started working together after being introduced by Herc’s brother Scott, currently incarcerated for insurance fraud, though there are strong suspicions of other crimes. The couple is based out of Sydney.”

“Somebody did their homework,” Angela says, looking Stacker up and down. Next to her, Herc does the same.

It’s a struggle not to straighten out, to give them a better look. “I’m to let you know that I have a contact who will come looking for me if they don’t hear from me in 24 hours.”

“Fair enough,” Herc says.

It’s quiet for a long minute. “So what’s all this been about?” Stacker asks when Herc and Angela stay quiet.

They shrug. “It’s like we said in the note,” Angela says. “We’re fans of your work, and we’d like to get drinks.”

“Drinks,” Stacker says.

“Like a date,” Herc says, smiling that wide grin again. It’s not any softer the second time around. “You’ve been on dates before, yeah?”

Stacker gives Herc a flat look perfected from years of dealing with Tamsin.

“So it’s a date?” Angela says.

“A drink,” Stacker says. “And you explain all of this.”

“Deal,” Herc and Angela say.

 

The next day, Stacker emails Luna and tells her he’ll be in Sydney for a while longer.

 

(“Ange?” Herc says three days later.

“Yeah?”

“I’m never doubting your long cons again.”

“Hold up just a minute,” Stacker says, propping himself up on an elbow, bedsheets slipping down to his waist. “This was a con the whole time?”

Angela kisses Stacker on the cheek. “Sleep now, career advice in the morning.”)

 

_All’s well here. It was a long con, they wanna date. Talk to you soon. –S_

_GET IT STACKER. –T_

**Author's Note:**

> Have a thought? I'd love it hear it!


End file.
